Always Fighting
by GolfishSoup
Summary: A back story about my favorite character(Daryl Dixon) from my favorite TV show(The Walking Dead). I always wanted to know more about the lovable redneck but the show focuses on the on the groups current predicament. Damn Zombies... So, I own nothing. This is just for fun because I have a 2 hour gap in my school schedule this semester. Other characters may pop up. Warning-child abus
1. Chapter 1

His small hands were the first to hit the ground and he felt a searing pain as his palms were punctured by sharp rocks. He grunted as he prepared for the kicks that were likely to follow. Sure enough, a swift blow crashed into his abdomen causing all of the air to leave his lungs. He whimpered softly as he rolled into the dirt staring up at all of the people who surrounded him. "Fight back you wimp! Your big brother isn't here to save you now!" The harsh words were accompanied by an equally harsh kick to the ribs. A sharp click let all the surrounding children know that one of his ribs had just been broken but it was the sudden loss of breath that informed Daryl.

He lay, gasping for air, at the feet of his attacker and doing his best not to let tears roll down his dirt-covered cheeks. The cheering for his battering only increased his humiliation. And his rage. Daryl propelled himself to his feet and launched himself at his much older, and much larger, attacker. He managed to get in a few blows before the larger boys fist crunched into Daryl's nose. A light flashed before his eyes and when his vision returned he found himself in the dirt. Again.

"Little shit." The older boy said stomping a heavy foot into his stomach. Daryl convulsed and vomited up what little food was in his stomach.

"Look at that!" called a random kid from somewhere in the circle surrounding the brawl. Daryl could see black smoke billowing into the sky from what looked like only a few blocks away. A fire engine startled the entire group as it came screaming down the street before turning out of view.

"Cool, a fire!" Said Daryl's attacker "lets go check it out!" and with that the small crowd of kids dispersed. Many of them pedaled away on shiny bicycles while a few others dashed along behind them. Daryl just lay there as warm blood gushed from his nose and into the dirt.

Finally he sat up and tried to clean himself the best he could with the hem of his already filthy t-shirt. He gazed around and, when he finally spotted what he was looking for, picked himself up off the ground. His broken rib made it hard to breathe. Hard, but not impossible. He did his best to stand tall as he walked over to his discarded backpack.

He gingerly picked up the tattered pack, happy that at least they had left his school things alone. Last time they had taken all of his books and hidden or destroyed them throughout the neighborhood. He was still working to pay off his debt with the small town library.

Daryl swung the backpack over his shoulder carefully so as not to break the straps that he had sewn back on only a week previously. If the kids from school weren't enough, most of Daryl's belongings had at some point or another belonged to someone else. He had snatched his red backpack out of a dumpster near the movie theater, he had found the shoes he wore abandoned under a park bench, and all of his clothes had belonged to Merle.

Not that Daryl minded wearing his elder brothers old clothes. He liked making and mending things anyway. He shuffled quietly along the pavement not in any real hurry to get home. The Dixon house wasn't home to Daryl unless Merle was there. Daryl's brow furrowed as he tried to recall the current reason for Merles incarceration. He finally narrowed the possibilities down to the two most probable options: breaking and entering or assault.

It was probably the latter, Daryl decided. Merle was stupid enough to brawl in public were every cop could see but he wasn't slow enough to get caught breaking in. Not that he hadn't been caught before; Merle had done time in juvenile detention centers for about every single misdemeanor that had ever been written down. But Merle was the sort who learned from his mistakes. Whenever he go locked up it seemed as though he got that much wiser on how to avoid the law. If he could only work on his people skills and control his temper he could probably be a very accomplished politician.

Daryl smiled at the thought of his big brother in one of those silly monkey suits beating the shit out of everyone in Washington. An ambulance screeched past him and startled Daryl back to reality. He glanced into the sky to see that the smoke had been growing closer as he had daydreamed. "No" he breathed, his chest bloomed with panic.

He began to run. Daryl's chest heaved with the agonizingly against his broken rib. The straps to his backpack snapped one by one and Daryl left it where it fell in the gutter. When he rounded the last corner the warmth from the hungry flames flushed his cheeks. He stood there gasping for air as hungry flames devoured his house. He looked across the street to see his father sitting in the back of the ambulance breathing into an oxygen mask. His wild gray hair looked a little singed but he looked fine, or perhaps that was the slight touch of alcohol in his eyes.

Daryl gazed back into the firestorm that had once been his home. Fire fighters swarmed around the blaze but it was obvious by their actions that they were more concerned with preventing the fire from spreading to the neighboring homes than with extinguishing his own. Daryl glanced once again across the street and saw that his father was now stubbornly avoiding looking at any of the service men and women as he breathed into the mask.

"What are you doing so close?" a police officer yelled storming over to where Daryl stood. Daryl's blue eyes turned steely as he met the gaze of the middle aged officer. "The tape is set up for your safety. We cant just have random kids wandering around you're getting in the way."

"I'm not some random kid. I live here." Daryl snarled motioning to the blaze behind him. The officer was obviously taken aback by Daryl's harsh tone but he looked eager as he heard what he had said.

"You live here?" the officer asked.

"That's what I just said." Daryl snapped crossing his arms over his still bloody shirt.

"Is that man your father?" The officer asked quickly, pointing at the ambulance across the street. Daryl nodded. "Your father is refusing to cooperate with police. Can you tell me if anyone else is still inside?"

"Why does it matter?" He said coldly "She's probably dead by now anyway."

"Is someone else inside?" the officer said again, kneeling down and holding Daryl by the shoulder.

Daryl pulled out of his grip in disgust. "My mother _was _probably in there but I doubt there is much of her left." Daryl turned and began walking away before the officer could reply. Before he rounded the corner he took one last look at what had once been his house.

The officer he had been speaking to was now talking urgently to one of the fireman. The fireman nodded and began yelling to his team with words that Daryl couldn't hear. Whatever he had said made the other fire fighter devote all of their attention to the main blaze. The officer turned and, after a moment of searching, spotted Daryl standing on the corner. The policeman gave a slight nod before Daryl turned away and began running to the only place he had left.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl stomped through the maze-like undergrowth that reached for him like hungry fingers. He clutched his backpack to his chest wiping hopeless tears on the worn red cloth. He really did try not to cry. He tried to be a man the best he could but nothing ever seemed to be enough. Daryl had always envied Merle's rock solid emotions and had quite often wished that he too could embody them.

"Quit being such a pussy." He told himself angrily. Daryl had never had much love for anyone except maybe Merle. But the certain death of his mother had shaken him. He should feel sad, but he didn't. He felt afraid. Anise Dixon had never really had much interest in her younger son. She seemed content enough to sit in front of the television with a cigarette pinched between her ashen fingers.

But Daryl's father, Wayne Dixon, had an insatiable love for beating his wife. Not that he didn't also enjoy beating the shit out of his two sons. Daryl knew for a fact his father beat Merle just as severely, if not more than he did Daryl. Now with his mother burnt to ash and Merle locked up; Wayne Dixon would have only one punching bag left.

Daryl stopped walking when he reached the small stream. He opened his bag and pulled out the extra t-shirt that was crumpled near the bottom. Daryl took off his bloody shirt and, kneeling down, let the clear water run over it. After the crimson tendrils began to fade, Daryl set to work scrubbing the best he could with his small hands.

The cool autumn air felt nice on his back as he worked. Slashes at different stages of healing crisscrossed his pale torso. Some were an angry red while most others were a puckered pink color. Daryl stood and slipped the remainder of his clothing off and hooked them on nearby brambles. He picked up his dripping t-shirt and began running it down his dusty body being sure to gently dab at any open wounds in reach.

He submerged the shirt for a second time shaking all of the new dust into the water. He squeezed his shirt dry before tossing it with the others still clinging to the brambles. Daryl moved to a deeper part of the creek before holding his breath and dunking his entire head in the cold water. Daryl hurriedly scrubbed his face and hair free of any remaining blood or ash before resurfacing with a gasp and a pain in his side.

He shivered slightly in the weak late afternoon sun peaking through the trees; his shaggy brown hair plastered to the top if his head. A large purple bruise had already bloomed along his right side adding to the collage of injuries than ran the length of his small frame. He ran his hand through his hair once before he slipped the dry shirt over his head and tugged his jeans back on. He slipped the wet t-shirt and his shoes back into his bag before continuing his trek.

Only now that he was semi-clean did Daryl notice how much his pants still reeked of smoke. He would have to make enough time to come back tomorrow and wash them before school on Monday since he hadn't thought to pack an extra set of pants as well as a shirt. Daryl did his best not to let his mind wander back to his father but it was very hard not to.

Daryl wondered how much trouble he would be in when he got home. "You ain't got a home anymore dumbass." He thought scathingly. Daryl shrugged off his unease and continued walking his bare feet slidding over the fallen leaves that blanketed the earth. He had always loved the mountains. They were so quiet and steadfast. Nothing in his life ever stayed around for long. First Merle, then his mother, his home… But not this. Nobody could take this wilderness away from him.

It had taken a long time for Daryl to dare even going into these woods with Merle always telling stories of the wild Chupacabra that lived among the trees, eating squirrels and the occasional hiker. It had taken even longer for Daryl to leave the safety of the many trials and venture into the brush.

Daryl fancied himself to be quite the outdoorsman. "Maybe I should just quit school and live here." Daryl thought dryly. Its not like anyone would miss him. Not his teachers, his neighbors, and especially not his father. More than likely they would all be glad to be rid of him. He would have to find a way to let Merle know where he was so that his older brother could join him when he was let out.

What would he eat? He could probably catch small fish and frogs in the streams although he couldn't see Merle being happy about living off fish and frogs… Daryl sighed. Although the wilderness was a more likable option than living with his father he knew it couldn't be done. Daryl was just to small to even survive the upcoming winter. Daryl cursed, silently wishing for the second time that day that he was more like his older brother.

Daryl finally came over a particularly steep ridge panting heavily. With his sharp breaths came a sharp pain from his ribs. He fell to his hands and knees coughing. Daryl cupped one of his hands in front of his mouth during the fit. After he had finished he peered with watery eyes into his palm. "No blood." He thought, "At least I didn't puncture a lung"

Daryl rolled over onto his staring up into the trees. They swayed slightly in the breeze, leaves falling to the earth every so often. Daryl propped himself up on his backpack before he tentatively lifted his shirt to bare his chest. His bruise was now a dark yellowish color near the center.

Daryl prodded it gently testing the pain level. Daryl gave a sharp intake of breath. Yep, it hurt. Daryl screwed his eyes shut and pressed his fingertips against his skin. He faintly remembered when Merle had broken one of his ribs a few years ago when he had fallen off the school roof. Daryl didn't think his rib was completely broken, more than likely it was only cracked.

He slid his shirt back before forcing himself to his feet. Daylight was fading fast and Daryl wanted to get to where he was going before he was forced to return to the streets and risk getting picked up by the police. With his teeth set, Daryl continued on through the trees.

_Sorry that this chapter was a little on the boring side! I'm trying to set up a good base for my story to stand on right now. Believe it or not, I do have a general plan as to where this is all going! I'm hoping that I will be able to finish this story down the road with all loose ends tied. That's the plan anyway…_

_So if you hadn't noticed from this stories description I am a HUGE Daryl Dixon fan but I am also quite fond Merle. I hope to represent both brothers in this fanfiction with the majority of the focus on Daryl. I will try to follow along with what little information I have gathered from the show but I will be changing/disregarding some things because I don't find them plausible or I just plain don't like them. And of coarse I'll be adding some things to keep people guessing._

_Rate and Review! More next week!_

_Goldfish_


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl held his breath and clambered through the high window. His feet landed on the carpet with a soft thump and his pack landed with a clatter. He hadn't expected to have to take so many rest breaks on his trek. Nor had he expected it to wind him so. He sank to the floor panting slightly, the soft carpet brushed against his cheek as he stared around the room.

Bookshelves lined the walls of the small building breaking only when they encountered a window like the only Daryl had just entered through. Daryl pushed himself up and slid the window closed leaving a smudged handprint on the glass. He grabbed one of the broken straps on the red bag pack and began dragging it along behind him as he crossed the room.

He came to an alcove in the room past the bathrooms that held the entire collection of children's books. Three colorful beanbags lay strewn around the small area and, with a sigh; Daryl collected them together in the farthest corner under another window. Exhausted, he fell into them face first.

He groaned sadly as his hurt chest protested against his weight. He tried curling on his side but found that to be even more uncomfortable. Resigned, he flipped over on his back and stared blankly at the libraries high ceiling. Daryl found himself wishing yet again that his brother hadn't been sent away.

Merle was seven years older than him and the two brothers were near polar opposites. Merle was aggressive and brutish where Daryl tended to be a bit reserved and thoughtful. If it hadn't been for the fact that the two had both inherited the same hardened blue eyes, not many people would guess that they were family let alone brothers.

"Always been the sweet one, my baby brother…" Merle always said.

"Yeah," Daryl always snipped back "and you've always been the dumb asshole." That retort usually earned the smaller Daryl a whack to the back of the head, which almost always led to a wrestling match, and which always led to Merles victory.

"Why don't you ever let me win?" Daryl had once asked as he had picked himself up out of the dirt.

Merle had shoved Daryl back down and said "Ain't nobody in this world is gonna just let you win. You want anything you gotta fight for it." Daryl smiled fondly at the memory. Merle was much smarter than any adults ever gave him credit for.

His sneakers hit the earth with a crunch as he slid out of the library window that he had climbed through the previous night. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon but it was still plenty light enough to be seen without arousing suspicion. He set off with his newly repaired backpack slung over both shoulders.

He had curled up on his side at some point while he slept leaving his hair pressed flat on one side and a terrible ache on the right side of his chest. He had hoped that maybe he could sleep off his latest injury like he had done so often in the past but it appeared that this wasn't the case. He sighed as he mentally caved to the conclusion that his rib was in fact broken.

Daryl wouldn't have minded that he had been hurt if it wasn't for school. Some teacher or parent would surly notice his discomfort and notify the school nurse who would insist that he receives professional medical evaluation. Daryl shuddered at the thought. Daryl hated hospitals and he especially hated doctors.

First off, Daryl would be asked to remove his outer layer of clothing, which he would always refuse to do. Then a nurse would enter the room to try and reason with the young boy. Daryl would stare hard at the wall and stand with his hands balled into fists, ignoring them. Then another, usually stronger nurse would enter and the three adults would then remove Daryl's clothing. He never fought back. He just stood there, staring at the wall.

He would stand there in only his underwear before he was placed on a bed with a sheet of tissue paper crackling at the slightest movement. With spidery fingers, the doctor would then start his examination. Poking and prodding at him with various techniques and instruments. All the while the doctor would ask questions and receive no audible or obvious response.

Well, at least not until the doctors hands began to travel down. With soft voices, the nurses would all assure him that it was all normal and a part of an every day evaluation. Daryl would then make it very clear how much he would tolerate "normal". Eventually the thoroughly scratched and bitten nurses would give in and allow him to get dressed and leave.

Daryl grinned wickedly at the memory of countless doctors and nurses who had come to face his anger. He, unlike his father, wasn't one who enjoyed hurting people but it gave him a thrilling sense of delight when he saw their faces light up with surprise as the quiet boy attacked with such ferocity.

He just didn't like people touching him. Strangers or familiars it didn't matter. Never in his memory had Daryl ever willingly embraced another person, nor had he allowed for someone else to do so. Merle would, on occasion, ruffle his hair or momentarily place a hand on his shoulder but that was all that either brother would tolerate.

The sun was now peaking over the mountains behind Daryl as he passed the small town church. It was surprisingly quite for a Saturday morning. Around this time one would usually see churchgoers bustling out the doors with satisfied grins smeared across their faces.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in disgust. It wasn't that he had any problem with what people chose to believe in, it was just that they thought that if they went to church over the weekends it magically erased all the crap they had done during the week. Daryl knew for a fact that the churches congregation was just a mixture of thieves, alcoholics, drug dealers, adulterers, and liars.

"If there is a God," Daryl said quietly, "I hope he can see through all this bullshit."

_I am so sorry this chapter is sooooo late! I just got super caught up with school… All of my teachers must be psychic linked or something because they decided to all have HUGE exams all in the same week and it just wiped me out! And then I decided to foster a litter of four kittens (Bottle feeding every 2 hours… -_-) So yeah, I've been a bit busy but I'm thrilled that people are taking an interest in "Always Fighting"! Keep reading! Reviews are especially appreciated! _

_P.s. I know my punctuation is bad so if you make a comment about it would you mind explaining how to fix it? Thanks!_

_~Goldfish_


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